In Your Arms
by LovelyxIrony
Summary: History repeats in the lives of Ennis's and Jack's grandsons, Abel Mitchell and Lucas Twist.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** In Your Arms

**Author:** LovelyxIrony

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** History repeats in the lives of Ennis's and Jack's grandsons, Abel Mitchell and Lucas Twist.

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Prologue

Three years ago he'd finally managed to escape.

Now, unfortunate circumstances had forced twenty year old Abel Mitchell back to the childhood home that he'd never wanted to set foot in again. His eyes ran over the faded blue color of the house, taking in the slightly dirtier windows before landing on the figures gathered around the living area. A breath flew passed Abel's lips as he caught sight of his father - Kurt Mitchell - and his grandmother, Alma.

His hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel, and Abel bent his head down, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel and closing his eyes. It was painful how just the sight of his father and grandmother could bring back the painful memories that he'd worked so hard to surpress.

It was slightly depressing to think that, if his grandfather Ennis had survived the cancer, Abel would have stayed away from "home" for good. If Alma or Kurt had kicked the bucket, he probably still wouldn't have come back - would have stayed in New York, completely happy and free from the cage that his two family members had made what should have been a happy home.

Abel stayed like he was for a moment, until there was the sudden creak of the screen door being thrown open and two happy voices yelling together, "_Abel!_"

With a jerk, he sat up and caught sight of his sister and mother running toward him. "Junior" Del Mar-Mitchell had barely changed in the time that Abel had been away - apart from the few age lines, she still looked as young as ever. Gillian Mitchell looked a great deal like their mother, and absolutely nothing like Abel, who had always resembled their grand-daddy Ennis more (except for the pale green eyes he'd, unfortunately, inherited from Kurt).

Once he finished looking them over, Abel beamed for the first time in hours and stepped out of the beat down Chevy. For all the bad times that he'd had in that house, the one source of joy had been his mother and his little sister. They'd supported and loved him, even when the rest of the family turned their backs on the "queer".

He strode forward, the grin still in place, and locked his arms tightly around his mother and Gillian. They stayed wrapped in a tight hug, until Junior pulled away with a shaky smile, her eyes teary as she cupped Abel's face. "Lemme have a look at you."

"Ma." Abel's grin dulled to a small smile, rolling his eyes. "I haven't changed that much since you saw me."

"Now I wouldn't say that's true." She released her son's face with an affectionate smile. "You've gotten taller. 'Bout the same height as your daddy now." Junior ignored the grimace Abel gave her at the mention of being at all similar to his father. "And I really ought to give you a piece of my mind, young man, 'bout staying away for so long, but I'm just glad you're here. We've missed you something fierce."

A small chuckle escaped from Abel, who was still in something like a half nelson thanks to Gillian's tight hold on his neck. "That's not exactly true. I bet you that dad and grandma will throw a fit once they see me." As he spoke, Abel unwound Gillian's arms from him, giving his sister's shoulder a small squeeze as she smiled back at him.

Junior frowned at him now, waving a hand as if to dismiss the comment. "Don't go talking nonsense, they love you." For some reason, she'd never seemed to accept that her mother and husband hated one of her children.

"So I reckon when dad threw that pot at me that it was out of love." Abel muttered sarcastically, sliding his hands into his pockets and giving Junior a slight grin when she scowled.

"Oh, hush. Now come inside - we're just starting dinner, and you look like you could do with some fattening up." With that, his mother started into the house and Abel had no choice but to follow behind her and Gillian, his hands digging further into his pocket and his teeth biting down hard on his lower lip.

_Here we go, _Abel thought with a grimace, taking a deep breath, preparing for the storm that was going to reign down on him as soon as he stepped into that house.

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**So! I just saw "Brokeback Mountain" today, and loved it. This is my first fanfic for it, so...yeah, hope it's going to be good xD.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I've just realized how long it's been since I've updated most of my stories. More than a year, I think, but my life has gotten busy with a job and trying to write an actual book for publication. Unfortunately, that caused my fanfic writing to fall behind, and I apologize for that. Updated this since I had some ideas for it for work just out of the blue - it's not the best, but it's something, at least. Updating _Fate_ and _Trials_ some time around tomorrow. Hopefully people are still willing to read :].

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**Chapter One**

As Abel had suspected, the house went quiet the second he stepped into the living room. Both his grandmother's and father's eyes fixed on him, narrowing into small slits that showed how the two felt about his presence. He stared numbly back, removing his hands from his pockets as his mother forced a smile and disappeared into the kitchen. Beside Abel, he felt Gillian stiffen, drawing closer as if she thought she could somehow protect him from the ice in their relatives eyes. He ignored this, giving Alma and Kurt a bright smile that he knew would just irritate the hell out of both of them. Judging from their expressions a second later, it had.

_Good._

"Alma. Kurt." He inclined his head a bit, inwardly smirking at another flash of irritation. He couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction. A poke in the ribs made Abel blink and he glanced sideways to see Gillian pulling a face at him.

A second later, she took his arm and gave it an insistent tug. "You should get unpacked." She told him softly, eyes flicking for a moment between the other three. "Ma said you can take your old room." He raised an eyebrow, surprised that their dad hadn't changed it into some storage space in the three years they hadn't talked, but nodded and let Gillian tug him along to the upstairs.

When they walked in, he took a moment to look around, trying to figure out if anything in the room had changed. His old posters, featuring movie titles that he'd liked as a teenager, still hung on the wall and his bed was still tucked in the corner, a tad small for him, but money had been tight back then and his parents had been able to afford getting a new one for him.

Nothing in the room had changed in the years he'd been gone. Abel figured that he had his mom to thank for that - when she wanted something, she was stubborn on it, and he was sure Junior had fought Kurt on changing the room. Shaking his head slightly, the dark haired man moved forward and set his suitcase on top of the sheets, raising up a faint bit of dust and grimacing, making a mental note to wash everything as soon as he could.

"You shouldn't goad 'em like that, Abe."

Gillian's voice startled him into looking up, and he frowned at his younger sister for a moment. "What?"

"Grandma and daddy. I know you three don't get along, but goadin' them isn't going to do any good. And ya'll just get ma upset for no reason." Gillian frowned back at him, searching his face, shaking her head. "You know it too. So why do you goad 'em?"

Abel realized he didn't really have an answer for that. It had become such an engrained habit, he supposed, finding any way to bother them. He settled on a shrug, grabbing out a pile of clothes and starting to put it away. The thing about Gillian was she could be as stubborn and hardheaded as Junior, and he knew he couldn't avoid her question forever, but for now, she seemed fine letting it drop, looking around the room.

He looked up in time to see her worrying on her lower lip. "Kurt wanted to change your room, said you wouldn't be coming back 'cause he told you not to."

Making his way over, Abel slung an arm over his sister's shoulders and moved them out of the room, laughing a bit. "I figured as much. Ma probably said no, though, right?" He felt Gillian nod as they trotted down the stairs, Abel's grip shifting from her shoulders and his hands moving into his pockets.

They arrived in the kitchen now where the rest of the family, if you could call them that, were gathered. Junior and Kurt were arguing quietly, and Abel could tell by the tensed set of his mom's shoulders that it was about him. She'd always looked like that whenever her husband started in on her son; tense, strained, almost like she was going to start crying. The easiest way to stop that was to draw attention to himself, something Abel had found out when he'd come out to his family at the age of sixteen, the hardest thing he'd ever done.

The look on Kurt's face and finding himself suddenly on the ground, nose bloody and his father standing above him with a raised fist hadn't made it any easier.

Shutting his eyes and giving himself a minute to block out the surging memory, Abel cleared his throat once he was sure he could think straight again. "When is grandad's funeral?"

His parents wince, and the way Alma glared at him suddenly, told Abel that they hadn't heard him or Gillian come in. His sister moved to hug their mother from behind, a small comfort that didn't make her expression relax at all. As he waited for an answer, Abel took a moment to look at his father.

Kurt hadn't changed much in three years. Average height, a head of dark black hair, and a pair of gray, mean looking eyes. He'd gotten used to that heated, angry look that the man was currently giving him, and it was at times like this that Abel wondered why his mother had ever fallen in love with the man. They were opposites in personality. Junior was warm and welcoming, loving to everyone she met; Kurt was mean, judgmental, and filled with a hate for things that he didn't view as "normal".

"Two days from now." Alma spoke finally, her voice tight, and Abel switched his gaze to her. His grandmother was the one who seemed to share more in common with her son-in-law, although Abel knew she had a reason for being so bitter; it couldn't have been easy finding out that your husband was in love with another man. Not that it excused her behavior - not in Abel's opinion, at least.

He nodded, looking away from her now. It was silent, an uncomfortable, suffocating quiet that was broken by Junior after a moment. "Oh, Abel," her son's gaze fixed on her, fighting back a sigh. He hated being back there; it was almost like he'd never left. "There's someone I met recently, who I'd like you to meet. A friend of your grandaddy's. Contacted me when my he...he passed. He'll be at the funeral, but I wanted to meet him before then, and I'd like you to go with me."

That got an interested look from Abel, who raised an eyebrow. "Sure, why not. Alright if I ask who it is? Grandpa might have mentioned him before."

She hesitated, biting her lower lip. "His name is Lucas Twist. Jack Twist's grandson."

Alma straightened suddenly, seeming to almost fill with anger as Abel stared at his mother in silence for a bit, taken by surprise. Of course he knew that name.


End file.
